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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22755811">They Call Me The Breeze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melda_Burke/pseuds/Melda_Burke'>Melda_Burke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, F/M, OC is not the Lone Wanderer, Sassy Charon, Slow Burn, bonding over snacks and snarks, don't worry though they're definitely gonna be comforted, humor as a shield, it's the wasteland someone's definitely gonna get hurt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:08:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22755811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melda_Burke/pseuds/Melda_Burke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The famous Lone Wanderer may have been generous enough to remove Charon from Ahzrukhal's clutches, but that was the extent of his courtesy. Too concerned with the opinions of his peers within the Brotherhood, Lone decides to drop Charon off with the first decent person he meets; an female acquaintance of Moira's going by the name Zephyr, who works as the ghostwriter of The Wasteland Survival Guide.</p><p>His new employer is eager to see the wasteland beyond Megaton, while he's simply determined to keep her from killing herself trying to help crazy Moira write a damn journal... comic... book... whatever the hell it is. Point is, he's got his hands full with this one. Great.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charon (Fallout)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Blowin' Down the Road</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_D/gifts">Aelia_D</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrawlOutThroughTheFallout/gifts">CrawlOutThroughTheFallout</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Moira, you're sure the ghoul won't be mistreated?" Thomas Mackaffry probed his old friend with a thin-lipped frown. Tommy Gun, or more popularly the Lone Wanderer, may not be the biggest fan of ghouls, but he wasn't about to let one suffer through slavery and abuse. No thinking being deserved such a fate.</p><p>"Oh, of course not!" Moira's plump lips grew pouty. "Zeph isn't like that. She's always been perfectly sweet to poor Gob, after all! And, since you're too busy with all that Brotherhood business to keep helping me with the Guide, I'll need someone else to fill your admittedly quite large shoes."</p><p>Tom sighed, ran a hand through his black, humidity-frizzed hair, and relented with a nod. "Alright then, here ya go." He handed an ancient piece of paper, one worn so thin it was as soft as a napkin, over to the young woman standing by Moira's side. </p><p>"Where is he?" Moira asked.</p><p>"Outside, awaiting orders." Tom's eyes flicked toward the door, and then back to the earnest, russet-brown eyes of the girl Moira had called Zephyr. She'd been quiet this entire time, not doing so much as meeting his gaze the moment he'd walked through the door. Strange, but also not his problem. If she was quiet, then she suited Charon all the more. The ghoul was seemingly just as talkative as she apparently was. "I'll go let him know his contract has changed hands." </p><p>The sound of the metal groaning under his feet as he stepped carefully along the metal porch made Tom wince; if there was a single unwise thing about his trip here, it was his choice to wear his power armor. The structures here were made of puzzle-fitted sheet metal as thin as his wrist in some places, and he didn't trust it in the least. His eyes raked the small space, and finally he spied Charon standing patiently to the side with a cigarette hanging from his ragged lips. "Charon, I have news for you."</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"From this moment forward, you are no longer under my command. Your new employer is waiting for you inside." His voice was cool, although he felt a touch of bitterness as he watched the ghoul nod and walk briskly into the Craterside Supply. It was both a relief, as well as a minor annoyance. Despite Charon's regrettable... affliction... he'd been a valuable companion, but his brothers-in-arms had started to whisper. If he were ever to advance to Paladin as was his ambition, then he would need to lay to rest any rumors of fraternization with undesirables.</p><p>Deep down, Tom wasn't sure the old Tommy, the one who was fresh out of the vault, would have done such a thing. That the old Tommy wouldn't have handed over another <em>person</em> as simply as if they were owned, but he was a different man now. Harder. Colder. He had more scars to count these days than simply the occasional split lip Butch DeLoria had given him over Amata's affections when they were teenagers.</p><p>And yet, he sighed and marched along to rejoin his brothers as they waited outside the gates. With the Brotherhood, he had a family again, and that wasn't something Tom could allow to slip through his fingers for a second time. Never again, no sir. <em>Ad Victorium!</em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>"There ya are!" <br/><br/>If Charon were the jumpy type, he'd have flinched at the screechy voice of the woman his former employer had called... Myrna? No, Moira. Not that he cared what her name was. "Hello, I wish to know which of you is my new employer." <em>Fuck, don't let it be the Moira woman. </em>He wasn't sure he could deal with a voice that high-pitched day in and day out. She sounded like an old vinyl record, all squeaky and scratched to hell. </p><p>"Oh, that would be me!" A girl, looking somewhat younger that Moira, gave him a wide, white smile before offering her hand to him. "Hi, I'm Zephyr, but you can call me Zeph if ya want!" She twirled a lock of strawberry-blonde hair around her finger -an obvious nervous habit. He noted, too, how there was a mild tremor to her extended hand speaking of further anxiety. </p><p>He took her hand after filing that information securely away. "My name is Charon. As my employer, I will do as you command. My contract denotes the details of the agreement."</p><p>Zephyr let her head tilt to the side and stepped forward. "Oh wow, you're so tall." Her wide eyes grew wider as she tipped her head up... and up... and up. "I love it!" She squeezed his hand, but he did not respond and simply let his hand drop.</p><p>The surprise of her initiating skin-to-skin contact with a ghoul had him reeling somewhat, but his face did not betray his confusion. "What are your current orders?"</p><p>"Orders?" Her brow furrowed for a second, and then she whirled around to check with Moira again. "Um, were you wanting me to go now, or...?" She let her sentence hang.</p><p>"YES! You've packed everything, right? I told you to pack before Tommy arrived!"</p><p>"Yeah, I wasn't expecting you to send me off right away, though." Zeph pranced over to a corner of the room, where she immediately began struggling to pull on a worn set of combat armor. After messing with the straps, grunting, and then accidentally pinching the pad of her finger in a bend of one pauldron, she let out a quiet huff. "Charon, would you please help me put this on?"</p><p>"As you wish."<br/><br/>Moira beamed broadly at them both. "Now, remember Zephie, we need as much information as you can get! Write <em>everything</em> down, if possible. Don't skimp on the details! When you get back, we'll edit it all to make it pretty, and then type up several copies of the next issue properly to get ready for distribution."</p><p>"I know, Mo. I promise we won't... oof, Charon, that's kinda tight."</p><p>"You would not want to have your armor slip off in the middle of a firefight." </p><p>"And be careful!" Moira clasped her hands to her chest. "I don't know what I'd do if you died horrifically!"</p><p>"Well, what if I don't die horrifically?" Zeph joked. "What if I die quite nobly in the act of sacrificing my life for the well-being of others?"</p><p>"That will not happen." Charon interjected as he rose from where he'd knelt to fasten the final set of buckles on Zephyr's armor. "As your employee, I am required to preserve your safety above all else."</p><p>"Uh... it was a joke, but thank you?" Zeph smiled down at him uncertainly. <br/><br/>He understood the joke, obviously, but protocol had drawn the words from his lips automatically. Charon did not react well to jokes. He was much more comfortable with plain orders. Those were simple, thoughtless, and as easy as breathing. This new employer, however, had laughing eyes. She had the type of eyes that smiled and winked no matter the situation. It was something he could already tell after being in the room with her for but a few minutes. He'd always praised himself for his judge of character and perception, and the glint of humor in her gaze hadn't been missed in his initial appraisal.</p><p>His blank look was a tactical decision; if she thought he didn't understand the joke, then she may be less inclined to joke with him in the future. Jokes were a distraction in the Wastes, and he needed to invest every scrap of his attention in keeping her alive, if her floundering attempts at <em>putting on her own damn armor</em> were any indication. "Your armor is secure." </p><p>Zeph grabbed up a heavy, military-issue backpack and slipped her arms through the straps. "Okay, I've got our map, and the compass... oh, and plenty of food. A few stims and anti-rad chems, but I really hope we don't have to use those." She shifted the backpack uncomfortably, and adjusted the straps to hold it tighter. "Water, too... a change of clothes. LOTS of paper and pencils. A flint and steel." She shifted the weight once again and grimaced. "Oh, and a bedroll, as well as soap. Extra bags. Jars for specimens, and gloves. Do we need more?"</p><p>"I think you're set!"<br/><br/>Charon resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and reached to snag the backpack to sling across his own shoulders. It barely weighed sixty pounds; this new employer was about as strong as a boiled noodle. Great, what luck. Well, best make the most of enduring this one until the next, as he always did. Endure, survive, and kindle his sanity in blessed silence and the warmth of a gun. "Weapons." He reminded them both gruffly.</p><p>"Oh, riiight! I forgot all about those." Moira giggled before ducking into another room, where she could be heard shuffling about, and then reappeared with a .44 magnum and a repeater rifle. "Gotchya one for close combat and one for ranged, always good to have options!" She stuffed Zeph's pockets full of boxes of bullets. "They take the same ammo, so ya don't gotta worry about lugging around two different kinds. Also, the repeater is a great one. Tommy sold it to me a while back, and I was saving it for precisely this momentous occasion! Said someone by the name of Lincoln had it before, but who cares? It's yours now, Zephie!"</p><p>"I guess we're good then." Zeph slung the rifle over her shoulders and buckled the gun's holster to her belt. "I love you, Mo!"<br/><br/>"Love you, too, sweetie! Don't die! Watch out for deathclaws! AND IF ANYONE OFFERS YOU CANDY, SAY NO! REMEMBER, ZEPH, STRANGER-DANGER IS STILL A THING IN A POST-APOCALYPTIC WASTELAND!" Moira waved them out of her shop with an excited, ear-piercing squeal, and then thankfully, they were on their way.<br/><br/>They were out the gates of Megaton for a handful of minutes before it started, the dreaded <em>small talk.</em> "Sooo... I was thinking we could head to Rivet City! Exciting, right?" </p><p>He let out a soft grunt of acknowledgement. "As you wish."<br/><br/>"I'm sure you've been there though, you look like you've seen some crap!"</p><p>"Some."</p><p>"Yeah? What kind of stuff have you seen? You were traveling with Tommy Gun, so you've probably wandered the entire Capital Wasteland, right?"</p><p>He momentarily closed his eyes, drew on every ounce of patience he possessed, and nodded. "Not with the Lone Wanderer, but I have. I was with my previous employer merely weeks until I came into your employ."</p><p>"What? Why would he only have you for a couple of weeks?" She bounced around ahead of him, her back turned toward the road ahead of him and he nearly had a heart attack for the danger of the frivolous, careless action. He immediately grabbed her, spun her around and prompted her to walk the proper way. "Oh, right." She giggled sheepishly. "Sorry, I might trip. Good thinking!"<br/><br/>He was starting to see why she and that Moira woman were such good friends. "No. Could get shot doing that. Easy target." He gave her a severe frowned as he eyed the way her hips twitched side to side as she walked, much like a playful cat. She had a bobbing step, partially the cause of that strange hip-twitch, and one that scuffed her feet along the ground in an irritatingly loud pattern. S<em>cuff-scruff. Scuff-scruff.</em> "Mistress, pick up your feet. <em>That</em> is what will cause you to trip." </p><p>To his surprise, her entire face immediately went beet-red. "Okay, but please don't call me 'mistress.'"</p><p>"How else should I refer to you?"</p><p>"My name is Zephyr."</p><p>"You are my employer. It is inappropriate to address you with familiarity." He continued to watch her, and it was then he noticed the awkward walk became more pronounced as she lifted her feet to avoid the scuffing. It resembled more of a limp now, and, when he next looked up, she'd edged slightly away. "I will call you ma'am."</p><p>She wrinkled her nose. "That makes me feel old."</p><p>"Miss, then."</p><p>"Is it really so hard to call me by my name? I mean, you're staring at me pretty hard to be worrying so much about propriety." She sounded exasperated now, as she blew a frustrated raspberry up through her unkempt bangs. </p><p>"My apologies. I will call you by your name, mis-... Zephyr." He snapped his eyes away to hone in on the horizon. </p><p>For a short time, he was able to enjoy a pause until she let out a quiet sigh. "I have a muscle deformity." He raised an eyebrow at her, and at the sudden admission, but kept quiet. "I had to wear braces when I was younger because my feet were turned in. Had them all through my life until around eighteen. Sorry about the way I walk, but it hurts less if I do it that way."</p><p>"You are in pain when you walk." He stated flatly. And yet she'd agreed to leave Megaton to go on what would likely be a months-long trip? He didn't understand the logic, but this had been her choice, and he did not get the luxury of questioning an employer.</p><p>She shoved her hands in her pockets, forging ahead of him with a longer stride which spoke of discomfort covered beneath a thin veil of enthusiasm. "A little." The way she whispered those two words gave him the idea it was worse than 'a little'. "But everybody has aches and pains, and I can't let Moira down!" She grinned at him. "This will be the best series of the Guide thus far, I know it!"</p><p>"I am sure." Interesting, there was clearly more to his new employer than he'd previously believed. Amusing, too. She had a nearly zealous energy to support her friend the shop keep for some reason. No use in pondering it; she seemed to be the type who'd spill her life story to a radroach if it sat still long enough, he'd probably hear the reasoning eventually. Bubbly, they'd called people like her before the War, and bubbly people didn't last long out here.</p><p>He adjusted his shotgun, scanning the bare wastes surrounding them, and continued on. Surprisingly enough, she stayed quiet afterward. Once in a while, he'd glance her way to find her suddenly schooling her features into a happy, excited smile. A fake smile. One he could see through a mile away. And so when he caught her begin to falter and the limp become more pronounced, he stopped, turned to her and abruptly lifted her up without explanation.</p><p>She spluttered indignantly for a moment."You didn't have to!"</p><p>"You wish to get to Rivet City, but we will not get there if we continued at the current pace." And it was true, but also that damnable <em>scuff-scruff</em> noise was bothering him again.</p><p>"I don't need pity."</p><p>"I am not pitying you. I am following orders."</p><p>"I can walk!"</p><p>"I do not dispute that. You <em>do</em> walk. You walk slowly and loudly. It is nearly dark, you will attract attention."</p><p>Her hands clenched into fists. "They said I never would." She mumbled.</p><p>"And you have proved them wrong for many steps today." He countered.</p><p>"I wouldn't want to tire you out."</p><p>At that, he couldn't contain a scoff. "I have carried much heavier things for much longer distances, I assure you."</p><p>"Are you calling me scrawny?!"</p><p>His lips twitched. "Not at all. My apologies for the unintentional implication of my statement."</p><p>"... I'm not scrawny."</p><p>She wasn't, if he were honest. She had a bit of a curve at her hips, more than most Wasteland woman could boast. It told him she'd eaten well, as did the sheen of her hair and the fact she still had all of her teeth without a stain upon the enamel to be seen. "You are not scrawny."</p><p>"And I can walk."</p><p>"Yes, but loudly." </p><p>Something in his face must have twitched again, a micro-movement of a muscle exposed by half-destroyed skin, and she began to giggle. "You know Charon, you're funny."</p><p>"Yes. Funny looking."</p><p>At that, she burst into clear, bell-like laughter, and he found he wasn't as concerned about the danger of making noise if it were her snickers breaking the silence. When she finally calmed down, her eyes were shining bright as the stars peeking through the clouds overhead. "Should we make camp soon?"</p><p>"If you are tired, we may rest."</p><p>"Why is it always about me?" She probed. "I mean, I get I'm your... boss or whatever, but you should think about your own needs, too."</p><p>"You are my employer. If you are tired, we rest. If you are hungry, we eat."</p><p>"You've got a pretty strict way of operating for a merc."</p><p>"I am not a mercenary."</p><p>"What, you're doing all of this for free? Sorry if it sounds rude, but you don't exactly strike me as the 'out of the goodness of your heart' type."</p><p>"I am your employee."</p><p>"Employee usually implies payment." She pointed out.</p><p>"Payment is not necessary, only except in the case of providing food, drink, and lodging to continue upholding my duties."</p><p>"Wait." Understanding crossed her face, and he swore she stopped breathing for a moment. "<em>Wait.</em>" She grabbed at his arms, a wild look in her eyes as she hissed. "My cousin... M-moira... she... I can't believe she'd... are you seriously telling me you're a slave right now? Please tell me I'm wrong."</p><p>"You are wrong. I am your employee." He gritted his teeth as he glowered down at her. </p><p>"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..." She was starting to hyperventilate. "No... no... no... I'm going to <em>kill</em> Moira when we get back, I fracking swear!"</p><p>"Zephyr." The ice-cold delivery of her name did next to nothing, and he inwardly groaned as he noticed tears forming at the corners of her eyes. </p><p>"I'm so... <em>so</em> sorry. I never thought she'd do something like that. I-" She began to pat at her clothes. "I have the contract here, I'll tear it up. I <em>promise</em>-"</p><p>"<em>No.</em>" He growled sharply as he stilled her hands. "No." His voice was softer, and finally she seemed to pay attention. "I was not sold. I am an employee." He repeated to her, a mantra meant to calm and soothe. "And the contract cannot be destroyed, it is part of the terms and conditions." <em>He'd have to kill her. </em>"If you do not wish to have me at your disposal, you may pass along my contract to a new employer."</p><p>"W-what are you then?" Her voice broke. "I... I can't... Charon, look, I seriously thought you were a merc. Honest."</p><p>"I. Am. An. Employee." He insisted, his tone terse. </p><p>"Please, at least let me pay you. I don't have much money, but I can-" She wriggled in his arms as she dug through her pockets until he finally stopped her. </p><p>"Food only. Water only. Lodging only." He gripped her hands, ceasing her movements with ease. </p><p>"I want to pay you. Does your contract say I can't pay you?!"</p><p>He blinked owlishly, the question rattling around in his head for a moment as he recovered from the shock, until he had the answer. "It specifies basic necessities for my survival must be met or the contract is void."</p><p>"I can give you things, then?" She sounded hopeful.</p><p>"If that is what you wish, then so be it."</p><p>He felt her chest rise with a deep breath as she continued to fiddle idly with her hair. That nervous habit again. It made him wonder when she'd picked it up and why, but it was none of an employee's business. None at all. But he would likely hear it anyway. "Okay, can I give you an order Charon?"</p><p>"I am listening."</p><p>She was picking her words carefully, weighing each of them on her tongue. "I order you to please take whatever things you may like while we are out here scavenging and surviving. If you see absolutely <em>anything; </em>a box of sugar bombs, a snack cake, a little bit of ammo... you may have first choice. That's your payment." She tapped her finger against his chest plate to keep his attention, as if he weren't listening intently. "I order you to speak your mind freely, to criticize me if I'm doing something wrong or something you dislike. I order you to hold your physical needs on equal par with my own, and lastly... I order you to please consider yourself free at my side."</p><p>"As you wish."</p><p>She was, by far, not the first employer to be perfectly horrified by the situation. Charon was certain she also wouldn't be the last, but there was something in her eyes now that muddied the soft brown. A shadow, he'd say, of a empathy running deeper than most people could comprehend. Why that was, he couldn't say, but he nodded obediently and strode forward without further conversation. </p><p>It wasn't much longer, a mere hour, until he found a suitable shelter in the form of a dilapidated trailer. He placed Zeph on the ground outside the rusted steps to allow himself the freedom to defend, if need be. "Where ya goin'?" She asked as soon as her bottom hit the dirt.</p><p>"Recon." He murmured. "Have your gun at the ready in my absence and call if you are in need."</p><p>She gave a quiet chuckle, and again with that odd twiddling of her locks. He wasn't sure he liked the motion, but he didn't choose to voice the thought. "Oh! Guns! Right, I... so.. you see the thing is, I've never actually <em>had</em> a gun before." Her words tumbled out faster, and her face tinted with pink. "The deadliest thing I've ever held is a pencil."<br/><br/>He wished his nose hadn't rotted off his face two hundred years ago, just so he could pinch the bridge right about now. <em>Jesus H. Christ, </em>if he weren't careful he'd have a new employer in less than three days. "I'll be taking that." He lifted the rifle off her. "And this." He pulled the .44 magnum from its holster. "I cannot protect you properly if I am carrying you. You cannot properly protect yourself. It leaves us with a single option." He knelt in the dirt after securing her weapons and lowered his head. "Wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist."</p><p>She blinked, her mouth falling open in astonishment. "You're not a pack brahmin, Charon!"</p><p>"An astute observation. I am not a pack brahmin. As we're done discussing what I am or am not, I suggest you climb onto my back." He chose to ignore her grumbling since she didn't outright protest, and waited until she'd comfortably wrapped herself around him from behind. And, with her safety assured, he rose to begin clearing the trailer. He made quick work of it; a couple of radroaches had infested the kitchen, but he ground them into the grubby tile under his boot heel without a thought. After the kitchen, he checked the single bedroom and bathroom, finding nothing except dust and a single skeleton perched upon the dirty, porcelain throne.</p><p>"Oh... well, <em>shit.</em>" </p><p>The curve of her cheek brushing under his ear gave away her smile, and she'd failed to keep the laughter out of her voice, as much as she'd tried to give a deadpan delivery. He couldn't help a soft snort. "Indeed."</p><p>"Bet he had a pretty crappy day, huh?"</p><p>"Once was fine. Now you are simply reaching for straws."</p><p>"Are you questioning my puns, sir?"</p><p>The false affront in her voice tickled something at the back of his mind. She was teasing him, but without malice. It was an odd feeling; it had been so long, but if this is what she desired of him then he would play along. It was always best to keep an employer happy. "By all means, pun away, but do not expect me to laugh at them." It was strange how only hours ago, he was hoping she'd not bother speaking to him often.</p><p>She huffed as he tromped through the smattering of garbage in the hallway. "I'll have you know puns were once considered the height of comedy!"</p><p>"Yes, and once upon a time blood-letting was considered the height of medical progress."</p><p>"Oh, you're good."</p><p>He'd had many decades to perfect the art of banter, although much of it had always gone unsaid. It was a way to pass the time of an immortal life; when bound to servitude for eternity, one had to find little things to keep one's sanity. "You are not bad. But please, I'd prefer you relinquish the puns. They're awful."</p><p>"Charon, there's some things you should know about me." She stretched to grab a cobwebby box of fancy lads. "One, I can never resist sweets." She ripped the cardboard open with her teeth to get at the snacks inside, and then reached around to wiggle one temptingly in front of his mouth. "Two, I can never resist a pun."</p><p>Again, she'd forced an amused noise from his throat, although he'd never admit it to having been a chuckle. "I'll keep both in mind."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I Ain't Got Me Nobody</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As he'd expected, Zephyr wasn't the type of employer to abide silence for long. She had a way of filling the air with noise -quiet noises, loud noises, songs, jokes, quips, smartass remarks... he now personally understood the idea of 'talking someone's ear off'. He learned the answers to the small number of questions he hadn't voiced, as well as the answers to questions he'd never considered. It didn't seem to matter to her if he held up his end to a conversation, and he got the distinct feeling silence made her itch. It was that way for some people, he knew.</p><p>They'd spent the night in that trailer, her in the musty bed and him on the floor in front of the door atop a blanket, and even in her sleep she didn't stop talking. It made him wonder how her throat didn't get sore, but he couldn't say he hated it. More accurately, he was mostly indifferent. But only a moment ago, she'd asked a question of him which gave him pause. "May I ask why you wish to know?"</p><p>"I... I would prefer it if we didn't run into any power armor-clad assholes in Rivet City." </p><p>"No harm will come to you if I can prevent it." He wasn't fond of the way her voice fearfully shook. She should be laughing. She hadn't <em>stopped</em> laughing until now. It was unnerving, seeing this switch like a light, and it had all come about because they'd spotted the scrap of a Brotherhood flag fluttering atop a pile of junk in the distance. </p><p>"I'd honestly rather avoid them, Charon. It isn't that I don't trust you to protect me, it's..." She shivered in spite of the mid-July heat beating down on both their necks, and her rosy face had grown pale. "Are you <em>sure</em> there aren't any Brotherhood in Rivet City?"</p><p>"I cannot guarantee. It is a popular place for trade and commerce. They may send the odd Scribe there for supplies."</p><p>She nibbled at her lip, swallowed hard, and then nodded in understanding. "I need to do this for Moira." She clenched and relaxed her hands over and over. One of those many habits he'd taken notice of. The ones that meant she was steeling herself, although for what reason he still had yet to understand. </p><p>"I have another question, but it may be impertinent."</p><p>She flashed him a wild grin. "I love impertinence! Lay it on me, daddy-o."</p><p>"Don't ever call me that again." She looked chided until he took pity and allowed her to see the barest hint of a smirk. "Why are we headed to Rivet City?"</p><p>"Because Moira wants to find out how to grow radiation-free food." She smiled widely at him. "Everyone has clean, rad-free water now, so why not work on doing the same for food? It isn't fair for Rivet City to be enjoying a monopoly when there are people out there in the wastes who have to choose between getting irradiated or starving to death."</p><p>"That is... ambitious."</p><p>"Yeah, Mo's always kinda been a visionary." A smile touched the edges of her eyes, but that same, distant shadow he'd glimpsed the other day was once again present. "She's been in touch with a few people there, and they agreed to start spreading the practice. They have a bunch of seeds and stuff, and since Megaton is one of the other most notable settlements..." Her arms were a mess of goosebumps now, and she'd taken to rubbing them. "The Brotherhood has started hassling her about it, trying to get her to start up a farm in Megaton to do her 'civic duty', and Tommy's been able to mostly keep them off her back." </p><p>"Tommy?"</p><p>"Tommy Gun... you know, the 'Lone Wanderer'?" She rolled her eyes at the nickname Three Dog had popularized. "He was so nice before he found out his dad died, and then he joined up with <em>them.</em>" She spat the word as though it had coated her tongue in poison.</p><p>Hm, so this woman hated the Brotherhood or, rather, feared them. Charon's curiosity was piqued, but didn't press the issue. There were many reasons to hate anyone in the Wasteland, and he didn't have to understand why Zephyr disliked the uppity, tech-hoarding bastards. "You will be safe with me. Power armor or not. Brotherhood or not."<br/><br/>"You're sweet."</p><p>"What I am is your employee. You are entitled to my services as a bodyguard."</p><p>"I am <em>entitled </em>to kicking your butt for not accepting a compliment." </p><p>"Physical violence on your part invalidates the contract." He smirked and crossed his arms. "And I highly doubt you could."</p><p>"Is that a challenge, I hear?" She asked sweetly. "You might be a big and bad dude, but I used to wrestle all the boys in Megaton!"</p><p>"Yes, of course. Forgive me, I did not realize I was standing in the presence of greatness." It was a sincere test of will to resist an eye roll. "Truly, I am humbled." <br/><br/>He turned his gaze toward a half-collapsed gas station farther down the road. Without warning, he was tackled to the ground. Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared to grapple his attacker, until a hank of blonde hair fell into his face and he realized he was staring upward into a familiar set of laughing brown eyes. She was nose to nasal cavity with him giggling like mad and completely unaware of how close she'd come to a knee aimed at her chest. "Gotchya! See, I told ya I'm good."<br/><br/>He growled up at her, but she went unfazed by his scowl. As frightened as she had been at the mere mention of Brotherhood soldiers, now she was recklessly fearless. Instead of moving off of him, she braced her elbows on his shoulders to rest her head in her hands. "You know, it's probably not a great idea to be lying on the ground out in the open like this. How 'bout we go check out that old station? Bet it would make a decent shelter for the night."<br/><br/>"I would not be lying on the ground if a certain employer of mine hadn't barreled into my chest headfirst like a Psycho junkie." He snapped back.<br/><br/>Her smile quickly died, and she rolled off of him. "Sorry, Charon. You're right, it was childish." She ran a hand dejectedly through her hair upon pushing herself up. <br/><br/>From this point until he'd gotten a fire going, she was silent. She took a seat opposite of his at the fire to eat, but her gaze remained level with the flames. Shadows cast by the tiny blaze danced across her face, making her eyes go black like some feral in the moonlight. Usually he would have relished the peace, but he couldn't. She was <em>always</em> making noise -irritating, relentless gabbing which made him want to pull the rest of his hair out. "I apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier." He kept his voice level. "I will accept any punishment you deem fit." <em>Anything except this damnable, oppressive silence!</em> She should be laughing. She should be giving him a fucking headache trying to keep up with how she jumped like a jackrabbit between topics. <br/><br/>"It's not that." She prodded the fire. "And I will never 'punish' you, Charon. You're not a child, nor a slave."<br/><br/>"What is it then?" <br/><br/>"I don't think you're interested in hearing it." She gave him a wane smile before reaching for the box of Fancy Lads she'd found yesterday.<br/><br/>"You gave me leave to speak my mind. I wouldn't waste my breath on asking if I didn't wish to know."</p><p>"Would it be alright if we... " Pain, deep and clear, flashed in her eyes for a moment. "I don't like talking about chems. My mom was an addict, and that's the whole reason I was born a damn cripple. So... yeah. It's kind of a sensitive topic. Sorry."<br/><br/>He ground his teeth together. "Do not call yourself a cripple."<br/><br/>"It's what everyone in Megaton calls me." She lifted her shoulders. "They say it in a whisper when I limp on by; 'There goes the poor little cripple girl. Moira's a saint for taking her in.' And they're right. I can't make myself useful the way other people can. Moira's the only one who ever gave half a damn about me, and sure she might be a little thoughtless sometimes, but I'm the same way." Her smile was bitter. "Family trait." She finally raised her eyes from the fire to pry the top off of a can of purified water. "She made me do exercises she found in an old pre-War medical text. Made me get up and walk no matter how much it hurt. And I love her to death for it, Charon. I would go to the ends of the earth for my cousin. I'd take a bullet, no questions asked."<br/><br/>"You would not need to take a bullet." There was an edge to his words, surprising even him. "It is what I am here for."<br/><br/>"Charon... you're sweeter than Fancy Lad icing, you know that?" She tossed him one of the packaged snack cakes. "And don't you dare take a bullet for me."<br/><br/>"And you will stop me... how? With those admirable wrestling skills, I take it?" He leaned forward. "You will not be getting the jump on me again."</p><p>And there she was again. That insufferably loud, laughing girl with the eyes that sparkled and a joke nestled in the corner of her smirking mouth. "Sure about that, are ya? Clearly, you underestimate me, sir. This must be rectified!"<br/><br/>This time, he was prepared. He saw her leg muscles flexing, and by the time she'd launched herself through the air he'd already rolled out of the way. She hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, but before she could scrabble for purchase, he had her pinned on her belly. She twisted her head around and caught him grinning, smug as a dog with a bone, as he slowly tapped the floor. "One... two..." He wasn't expecting the sharp dig of her heel into his lower back. Using the distraction, she wiggled nimbly out from between his legs and twisted around. She shot forward, palms flat to his chest, and pushed him off-balance hard enough to knock him on his back for the second time that day.<br/><br/>"One... two...~" She mockingly parroted him, and he laughed. It was an honest one, not a snicker or a chuckle, but one that came from deep in in his belly. It shocked him, shocked her, too, and they both sat there staring at each other. She was the first to break through it with a giggle, and then she leaned down to smack the floor beside his head a final time. "Three!" Gleeful and worn-out, she let her head fall on his shoulder. She tried to move off of him, but winced sharply and sucked in a harsh breath. "Okay, maybe I overdid it."<br/><br/>He sat up immediately, a grim frown already settling across his lips. "Did I hurt you?" <br/><br/>"No, no... that's not..." She sucked on her teeth as she attempted to move her legs. "We've been walking a lot." Shame made her struggle to wiggle off of him, and he let her try. Soon enough however, it became clear the spasms in her calves made that an impossibility, and so he helped her sit upright.<br/><br/>"Med-X?" He asked, reaching for his pack.<br/><br/>"No!" She reddened, and then vigorously shook her head with a quieter protest. "No chems. Not if I can help it."</p><p>"You're in pain." <br/><br/>"No chems." She repeated firmly.</p><p>"Allow me to help."</p><p>She could have refused, and he could see she was debating her answer, but she must've been in more pain than she was letting on because she eventually nodded. He began the task of helping her out of her greaves, and then rolled both of her pantlegs up to slightly above her knees. He took her legs over his lap to get a better angle, and kneaded at her calf. The muscles continued to jump beneath his fingertips for several minutes, convulsing and contracting like snakes beneath her skin. He dug the knuckle of his thumb into her leg, massaging in circles and rolling the flesh beneath the palms of his hands. The seizing gradually ceased, and he felt her relax with tired, puppy-like whine. <br/><br/>"Thank you." She leaned over as best she could to wrap an arm lightly around his shoulders. "Where did you learn to do something like that?"</p><p>He didn't have to answer the question, he knew. She was entitled only to his services in combat, and yet he found himself opening his damn mouth anyway. "Service."</p><p>"What kind of service?"</p><p>"Pre-War. Military." He popped open a tin of Cram, not merely because he was hungry, but because he needed to distract himself from the feeling of her skin. That was twice in as many days she'd allowed him to touch her, and he was beginning to think she didn't mind it. Stupid. Nobody willingly touched ghouls. They did, but usually it was the crazy ones; those insane Church of Atom people, for instance. He'd never been one for religion, neither before the Great War nor afterward. He'd like to think he was all the better off for it, too. </p><p>"You're a Pre-War ghoul!" Her eyes lit up. "What was it like? Was it beautiful? Was it <em>clean?</em>  What did it smell like? I've seen so many posters and pictures!"</p><p>He scoffed derisively. "The old world was about as dirty as this one. Less upfront about it, though. They hid their sewage behind pretty clothes, fine jewelry, and shiny cars, but underneath they were all the same; savage. Ruthless. Cutthroat as any raider." If he'd had known about the experiments they performed on the military, his <em>brothers and sisters-in-arms</em>, then he'd have never signed off on the 'augmentation' they'd proposed to him. If he'd have known it would turn him into... this. A monster barely better than a slave.</p><p>But the way disappointment killed that light in her eyes... it bothered him more than it should have. "There were beautiful places." He amended. "Some honestly beautiful people, too. Good people." <em>What good did being 'good' do for them? It got them blasted to hell, irradiated to burnt meat and charred bones, that's what it did.</em> "Was clean, mostly." <em>Except for the alleys. The alleys were always full up with scum; dirtbags peddling drugs to kids and veterans and all those other vulnerable, sad, pathetic people.</em> "Smelled nice. Everyone used Abraxo for everything, seemed like."<br/><br/>"Was it green?"</p><p>"Huh?" Her question took him back to the present like the snap of a rubber band breaking.<br/><br/>"Green." She repeated. "Was it green? Like the pictures?"<br/><br/>"About as green as you are." He grinned, and found it was easier now. Smiling. He hadn't smiled for a... damn it, before her, when had he last genuinely smiled?</p><p>She let out a petulant grumble and gave him a light <em>thwap</em> on his chest plate. "Not funny!"<br/><br/>"I disagree. I think it's hilarious." His playful grin twisted into a smirk. "The pen may be mightier than the sword, but a pen won't blow the head off a raider at twenty paces."<br/><br/>"Neither will a fricking sword." </p><p>"Fucking." He narrowed his eyes. </p><p>"What?"</p><p>"If you're going to curse, curse right. You want people to take you seriously? Sprinkle in a real curse once in a fucking while."</p><p>"I used to." She stretched out on her bedroll with a yawn. "Moira made me stop." She curled her body close around the fire. "Didn't make them anymore comfortable around me, but it was worth a shot." She tucked herself deeper under the blanket, although it did nothing at all to hide her forlorn expression. He didn't have to do anything more than wait. Zephy always explained herself; it was as if once she got started on a story, it gushed like water from a hose. "That's why I left, you know. I overheard Moriarty speaking with Moira a few months ago. Letting her know I made people uncomfortable and that I wasn't welcome in his bar. I don't know if it's because of the limp or because I chased off his customers, but Megaton didn't... I guess it never really felt like home."<br/><br/>"And you think Rivet City will feel that way." </p><p>"Maybe, or maybe I don't have a home." Her clever, bright eyes met his, sparking and spitting fire. "Maybe I was meant to be a Wanderer, just like Tommy Gun! If I drifted from town to town, would you come with me?"<br/><br/>"I will be with you until the end."</p><p>"That isn't what I mean and you know it." She accused.<br/><br/>"I find happiness in a warm gun, not in a warm hearth." He finally admitted. "Go where you will, and I'll follow." He'd always found the notion of a home to be overrated. A home didn't guarantee safety -nothing did these days. A home was not where the heart was, or any of that other romanticized bullshit. "Get some rest, Zephyr." He leaned against the wall with his shotgun in his lap. "I will be here."<br/><br/>"I know, Charon. I know. Thank you."</p><p><em>No, thank you.</em> "Goodnight."</p><p>"Mm, Charon?"<br/><br/>"Yes?"<br/><br/>"I won.~"<br/><br/>"Yes." He stifled a chuckle. "You did. Now go the fuck to sleep."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Craving seconds, Aelia darling? XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Don't Carry Me No Load</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The road stretched out before them, the ground looking parched, boiled, and packed hard by years of travel. They’d left the highway nearly half a mile behind, and now they were hoofing it on a dusty, sun-baked dirt path. He knew they’d catch up to the highway again, the broken asphalt crisscrossed the wastes like a map of broken varicose veins on the flesh of someone who’d lived for far too long. It would still be at least an hour before they’d even made it to the edge of outer D.C., especially at the pace they were going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trudging wasn’t necessarily his employer’s fault, knowing what he did now about her issues with mobility. Yet, he found himself growing frustrated again when she continued on despite her growing discomfort. When he’d finally grown tired of her stubbornness, he stopped to turn around and scoop her right off her feet. She protested, of course, but he ignored it. Her comfort and safety would always be placed far higher than his own, and it was barely an inconvenience to add her weight to that which he was already carrying anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like an odd kind of victory when she eventually settled down in his arms. She leaned her head against his chest plate, but, as always, the silence didn’t last long. “How are you so strong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile played along his ragged lips at the compliment. “Military service requires peak physical conditioning. Ghoulification, too, strengthens the body in many ways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow…” She looked him over again with a curious, appraising gaze. “So, how much can you carry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised a brow at the question. “I estimate my maximum capacity, without severely inhibiting my movements, to be around five to six hundred pounds. That, of course, depends on how the weight is distributed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She breathed</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He was smirking now, and when he glanced down he caught sight of a blush blooming across her cheeks. She caught his eye for a moment, and then tried to hide her face against his shoulder. Endearing. “How are your legs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better.” Her words were muffled against his armor. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed; her curiosity and need to talk were physical weights in and of themselves. He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense </span>
  </em>
  <span>the need to speak burning on her tongue. “Go ahead and ask your questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it hurt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meek, quiet inquiry wasn’t what he was expecting at all, although he wasn’t entirely certain precisely </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d been expecting from this tiny, strange, motor-mouthed woman. “I don’t understand the question, please clarify.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your skin is…” She swallowed hard. “It looks like it hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The process, before a lot of the superficial nerve endings died, was extremely painful.” He recounted with a measure of detachment. “But no, it does not hurt these days. Nothing is raw or peeling, but it is very difficult to keep the problem of dry skin at bay. I’ve found the use of brahmin milk soap and staying hydrated to be my personal solution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re saying you’re more likely to be itchy than be in pain?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correct.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good.” She looked genuinely relieved. “Does being a ghoul mess with your sight or smell or anything like that?” She shifted in his hold to be able to better see his face. “Gob always said he thought his eyesight was a bit worse off.” Smiling, she met his eyes. “Yours are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>blue</span>
  </em>
  <span>… just like the sky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My eyesight has not noticeably suffered overall, but I’ve become more sensitive to bright lights.” He chose to overlook the comment about his eyes because that made him confused and slightly uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you’re saying is that you need sunglasses!” She chirped, and broke out in a fit of giggles. “You’d look </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable</span>
  </em>
  <span> in sunglasses. When we get to Rivet City, I’m going straight to the market and we’ll get you a pair! Gosh, I’d hate to cover up your lovely eyes, but I want you to be comfortable!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am hardly adorable.” He scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shush, you’re the most adorable, sweetest-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not adorable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I am adorable, then what does that make you?” He shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The badass, of course!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The confidence with which she proclaimed it caught him so off-guard, that he found himself faltering in his stride and bending over as he laughed. It started with a poorly-restrained </span>
  <em>
    <span>snrk</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he soon lost control to the point where tears came to his eyes. His chest burned, and each time he thought he’d managed to calm himself back down, he’d take one look at her still-beaming face and bust into guffaws again. “Sure… heheh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He choked out, and gave her a light pat on the head. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was quiet again, but smiling wider than before. Her eyes were shining bright as stars, and her expression was soft. He couldn’t understand why she was looking at him that way, but it made him want to stand straighter and proudly square his shoulders. “Yes?” A smile still lingered on his face, but he didn’t fight it this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like making you laugh. You don’t act like you’ve laughed in a long time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is not much reason to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be your reason.” She crossed her arms determinedly and held her head high. “I’m going to make sure you laugh at least once every single day.” It was cute, the way her lips puckered and her face lit up. He’d humor her, even if it was an odd thing to focus on. “You can keep away all those Brotherhood people and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> keep you laughing until you’re blue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Turning his eyes back to the road, he rolled her words around in his head. There were a few questions of his own that had been simmering at the back of his mind these past couple of days. He’d refrained thus far because the single previous time mention of the Brotherhood was made, she’d become upset. At first, he’d not cared one way or the other, but his feelings on the matter had obviously changed. “I have a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, I’m an open book. Ask me whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it about the Brotherhood that scares you?” Her face fell, and regret was nearly instantaneous. “My apologies for touching on a sore subject. If you wish, I won’t bring it up again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… no, it’s… um… it’s fine.” She let out a long, harsh breath and shivered. “Sorry, I… it’s hard.” She averted her eyes to the ground. “Gods, it’s been years, I should be able to talk about it, but it’s just… C-could you put me down? I’m feeling a little nauseous.” Her face was, in truth, turning rather red and she had a bit of sweat starting at her hairline. The moment he put her down, she wobbled a little to the side of the path and took a seat in the dirt. Uncapping her water bottle, she took a few sips and deep breaths. “Okay, I’m good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a seat beside her and waited for her to say anything more. It took her several minutes to work herself up to it. “I already told you my mom was a junkie… but… sometimes we didn’t always have the caps to fund her habit.” Her face lost the flush she’d had earlier as her eyes grew distant. “But she found ways to get it. She’d go scavving… sell whatever we found. Even eating was secondary. Things were about as okay as they could be for a while. We spent a lot of time homeless and hungry, but it wasn’t all that bad. Over the years, her habit got more expensive, and she needed some way to get more caps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he didn’t like where this was headed. A sick feeling had started to grow in his own guts, and he had to pinch the tip of his tongue between his teeth to keep from saying anything. At the same time, he felt a hint of anger begin to boil within him. It left the taste of iron in his mouth, and his palms began to itch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At first, she was the one… you know…” Her shoulders shook a little. “But by the time I was fourteen, she started… she made me... “ Her breath was coming quicker, and she was holding her canteen so tight that her knuckles had gone stark white. “The first ones were a group of Brotherhood soldiers, a-and… it hurt like being ripped apart from the inside-” Abruptly, she cut herself off, pushed herself up to her feet, and began pacing back and forth. “I’m sorry, Charon, I… I can’t...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry. That shouldn’t have happened to you.” But shit like that happened far too often, even back before the War. If one thing had stayed the same, even through nuclear annihilation, it was that there were still sick, depraved people out there. “But I promise you, if we ever come across those men in our travels together, I will have no qualms putting a bullet between their eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, they’re probably dead or reassigned far from here.” Her voice shook as she continued to pace in front of him. “I’m just… I’m really worried they might… I mean, there’s probably no way they’re still around. It’s been nearly a decade, so… yeah… they’re probably dead. Dead or gone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to try to say something else, when he spotted the dirt behind her begin to ripple. She didn’t notice it in her frantic state, but he was quick to lunge forward in time to yank her out of range -right as a radscorpion burrowed upward to prime itself for an attack. It’s stinger dripped with venom as it clicked and chittered. His gun was on his shoulder in a heartbeat, and he unloaded a bullet into its face. The shot managed to take out one of the several pairs of eyes, causing it to scuttle backward in retreat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement from his side caused him to snap his head to the left, realizing Zephyr had not retreated. While he watched, she clumsily loaded her rifle, brought it up… and missed her first shot. He cursed, barely dodging the stinger as it zipped through the air, and quickly shoved another couple of rounds into his shotgun while backing up. Before he had a chance to fire however, his heel caught on something in the sand and he fell backward with a shout. His gun discharged as it hit the ground, luckily not hitting him in the process. Instead of hitting the relatively soft dirt when he came down, his head hit something beneath a thin layer of it. Pain exploded behind his eyes as blood began to drip down the back of his neck. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The radscorpion took advantage of his stunned state by surging forward. Arching its stinger in preparation for the ending blow, it suddenly jerked and let out an ear-piercing </span>
  <em>
    <span>screee</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Charon’s vision had doubled and blurred, but he was still able to make out Zephyr as she leaped and wrapped her arms around the base of the stinger. The massive creature thrashed to no avail as she clambered upward. “SHOOT IT!” She screamed at him. “SHOOT IT ALREADY!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrambled for his gun, his heart pounding hard with some foreign emotion, and cocked it. Another round into the thing’s head sent a slosh of goo across the dirt, and it let out yet another pained screech. It’s pedipalps stabbed blindly at the ground around it, managing to get in a few swipes which only narrowly missed the ghoul. After yet another couple of rounds that ricocheted off the thickly armored arachnid’s body, he realized he’d have to risk getting closer to take it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diving deftly between its groping pincers, he aimed from the hip and fired. He didn’t even stop to see if they connected, but simply loaded in another round of shells. Charon failed to roll entirely out of the way as the left pincer came down on his left. A slight pain told him his less-than-perfect dodge had cost him a minor wound to his side, but he pushed that to the back of his mind and popped back up to his feet right as a pair of snapping, wet jaws dripping with acidic drool came for him. Unfazed, he squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession. The jaws were blown apart by the force of the blasts, and finally… </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the monstrosity collapsed and went still.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Zephyr let out a surprised noise as the tail went limp, falling with it to the ground and then pushing herself away as soon as she’d recovered from the shock. “Charon?! Are you okay?” She hobbled his way, voice full of worry. “Shoot, you’re bleeding! I have a few stimp-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is fine.” He shook his head. “The wounds are superficial.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there’s so much-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Head wounds always appear worse than they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t have a concussion? You slammed your head pretty hard on that old Corvega chassis...” She said with uncertainty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what it was?” He glanced behind him and, sure enough, he could see the rusted remains of an ancient Corvega chassis peeking up from the ground where he’d fallen earlier. “No matter, I will be fine. You are the priority.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright, just a few bruises thanks to you.” She gave him a smile, and threw her arms around his middle. “Really, thank you, I’d probably be dead if you didn’t pull me out of the way!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is what I’m here for.” Regardless of his automatic answer, he let his hands settle on her shoulders for a moment. In that time, he came to realize exactly what it was that he’d been feeling during the fight -fear. He had been afraid, and that confused him. Fear wasn’t an emotion he’d been able to feel in centuries, yet he had feared for her. Not because he was bound to her, no, but because he was afraid of the silence that would follow in wake of her death -cold, dead silence. No more laughing eyes, no more jokes, no more </span>
  <em>
    <span>her…</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was baffling why the idea so deeply unnerved him, and so he tucked it away for later examination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going to eat it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She casually motioned toward the radscorpion. “Are we going to eat it?” She repeated with a disarmingly sweet smile. “I’ve never had it before, but I know they’re edible! This thing is enormous, too. We could have it for dinner for </span>
  <em>
    <span>days.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She pulled out a tiny knife, and, upon approaching the body, picked up a leg to try to hack it off. “Just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurrrgh… </span>
  </em>
  <span>gotta… </span>
  <em>
    <span>huff</span>
  </em>
  <span>… figure out… </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on!</span>
  </em>
  <span>... how to butcher it!” When she had no success in cutting the leg off, she heaved it over her shoulder and tried her damnedest to yank it off. “Darn it all, I’m hungry! Gimme!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw dropped open, and then he began to chuckle. “Okay, okay, don’t hurt yourself. I’ll take care of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awesome, that means I can have my hands free to take notes!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. No Change In The Weather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"We're lost." Zephyr said, for no less than the fourth time in the span of twenty minutes. "I'm pretty sure I saw that same burnt tree and dead guy slumped over a mailbox half an hour ago."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charon sighed heavily, but resisted the urge to pinch what remained of his nose. "This is the apocalypse. Believe it or not, that means there are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of burned trees and dead guys laying about."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lying."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? No, I'm not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Grammar, dork. Hens </span>
  <em>
    <span>lay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. People lie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, yes they do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Snrk.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" She lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she snickered. "I love word play."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would hope so, considering you are a writer." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zeph let her head fall against his shoulder with a frown. "Well, it isn't easy to always love your art, you know. Sometimes I hate it. Not just in the sense that I write something over and over, only to feel like it never turns out right, but because it's hard. It doesn't come to me naturally all the time. Writing is like… hmm…" She nibbled her lip as she pondered how best to phrase her point. "It's as if every time you picked up your gun, you had to mentally visualize or calculate every single movement between then and the second your bullet takes your enemy's life. Then, you have to simplify it. Make it less… crowded with thoughts. And after that, you need to make sure it can be understood even by people who don't know how to hold a gun… or even what it means to take a life." She frowned. "And sometimes, you have to visualize picking up and weilding a weapon </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> barely know how to use."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted a brow at that. "You stick to your writing and I will stick with my shotgun. Both are weapons of equal merit, if used correctly and in service of the right cause."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're right." She agreed, and was about to say more when her attention was captured by a sudden, distant sound. "Hey, that sounds like people! We could ask for directions!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scowl appeared on his face as his whole body went stiff. His grip on her became tight as all of his senses went on high alert. "We are not asking them for directions." He admonished her in a hushed tone, and promptly ducked behind the remains of a brick wall as the voices drew nearer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're lost, we need directions." She countered in an exasperated tone of voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gritted his teeth as the scent of blood hit his nose. He dared a peek around the corner and saw four figures dragging a limp fifth along the ground. That glimpse was enough for him, and he promptly set her down to ready his gun in case the group headed their way. "We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> lost. You simply have a poor sense of direction and an apparent disdain for living!" He hissed in a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow in disbelief and then popped her head up to check for herself. "I dunno, it really isn't kind to judge. Maybe that dude they killed was a raider trying to like… steal their last box of Sugar Bombs or something…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed her collar and growled. "They are covered in blood and you want to ask them for directions to Rivet City like some errant tourist?! It's a miracle you haven't tried drinking radscorpion venom or tickling a super mutant's balls, for all the self-preservation you seem to have!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, she looked a little hurt, but that quickly disappeared. "You're just saying that because you're embarrassed you got us lost. It's okay, Charon, really!" And then she, with all the speed and grace of a hamster on a greased wheel, scurried around him into the middle of the street. "Excuse me! Hi! Yes, hello there, fellow wastelanders!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charon could only stare in slack-jawed horror as she waved at the tiny, blood-stained group. "ZEPHYR!" He whisper-yelled and prepared to launch himself forward to tackle her out of the way of any potential projectiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My name is Zephyr, and the guy who definitely ate his veggies as a kid is my bodyguard Charon. He's kinda shy and grumpy, but don't worry he is a lot sweeter than you'd think." She tucked her hands behind her back and tilted her head to the side as she smiled. "We're trying to get to Rivet City, but we might have gotten turned around and took a left at the dead guy when we shoulda taken a right. Can you maybe get us back on track?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four exchanged glances, murmured amongst themselves, and then the largest one shrugged. "Actually, yer headed th' right way, missy. Keep on goin' thattah way-" He pointed over his shoulder with his barbed wire-wrapped baseball bat. "-an' you'll be in Rivet City by t'morra mornin'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh!" Zeph glanced back at Charon, who was caught between having a heart attack and sprinting into the street after her. "Well, looks like you were right, Charon! I'm sorry, I really thought this would be like that movie trope. You know the one where the couple goes in circles for hours, and the guy refuses to admit he doesn't know where he's going, and then the woman goes and gets directions and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> are able to get where they need to go?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Heheh, that one always makes me laugh." One of the wastelanders snickered to himself. "Welp, yah'll fine folks have a good day. Don't be offended if we loot yer corpses someday, that's jus' how it be sometimes. Peace." And then the four blood-spattered, scrap-leather armored scavvers went quietly on their own way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't we know it, brother!" Zeph called after them cheerily. "Same to you!" And then she trotted back to Charon with a smile that could have outshone the sun. "See? I told you they were friendly! </span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were right, I'm sorry for doubting you. I'll make dinner tonight and take the first watch to make up for it, okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One hazy, blue eye twitched as he snatched her up. "That… was… DO YOU REALIZE HOW FUCKING DANGEROUS THAT WAS?!" He kept his voice low and even, but he might as well have been screaming at her. A tidal wave of relief drowned any other words he might have prepared to scold her with. Instead, he held her in a bruising grip until he was able to process everything. She was safe… he had her… and she was NOT ALLOWED to talk to strangers ever again!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Charon… you're… um… you're shaking…" She said softly. "I really scared you, didn't I?" The realization accompanied audible guilt, and she buried her face in his neck. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a breath to steady himself. If the terror he thought he had felt over the radscorpion had been bad, he had been proven terribly wrong. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> shaking, and his breathing was off. His stomach rolled, too, as he fought to process his physical reaction to such a foreign emotion. "That was reckless." His tone was sharp as any blade, and it came out somewhat broken. "You needlessly endangered yourself to prove a ridiculous point." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed her face to make him look him in the eyes. "My entire purpose in life is to protect my employer… to uphold the contract even at the cost of my own life." But going through that had been different. He'd been frozen; it had been a kind of deer in headlights moment of joint-locking horror and disbelief. "I wasn't thinking of losing an employer when you darted out into the street. I was certain I was about to lose the closest thing to a friend I've had in two hundred years."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain and understanding dawned in her eyes, and she fisted her hands in his clothes. "I'm so sorry, I… I just wanted to be useful, ya know? I'm sorry, I won't do anything like it again, I promise." Her own breath hitched as she cuddled closer to him. "And you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> my friend, not just close to it. I don't think I've had a friend as good as you since… ever." She sniffled and swallowed hard. "I know I'm… kinda weird… and I do stupid shit… but I wouldn't ever go out of my way to make you this upset. You're important to me, and not just because I'd probably be molerat-chow without you, but because I love being around you. We make a great team."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, let his head droop, and rubbed at his temple. He was silent for a few minutes, but then he snorted and patted her head. "I hated vegetables as a kid." He muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said I ate them, but I always fed them to my rabbit instead." He smirked. "You know what a rabbit is?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh…" She blinked, thought for a moment, and then shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's a cute, fluffy, tiny thing. Hops a lot… has big ears… you're kinda like a rabbit." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, if you're trying to tell me I have big ears, I will legit fight you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, he was stunned into laughter. It broke the last threads of tension he'd been holding onto in his shoulders and he relaxed again. He rose with her still in his arms, as it was an action he barely graced with a thought these days. "I meant you're small… cute… soft, too." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did a lot of people have pet 'rabbits'?" She tried to imagine what a rabbit might look like in her mind's eye; it came out as a puffball of patchy brown fur with big eyes, razor sharp teeth, and armored ears to hide itself inside for protection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not as many as those who had dogs or cats or even birds, but yes." It had been nearly two lifetimes since he had thought about Heracles, his lop-eared, childhood friend. Strange, most of his early years were a blur. It made him stop mid-step and frown as he struggled to recall anything else about the bunny. What color was its fur? How old had he been when he had received it? Had it died before or after he was conscripted? Snatches of memory like torn bits of paper fluttered through his head, all of them just out of reach. It was the same frustration of knowing a name, but being unable to recall it on command. That 'tip of the tongue' feeling…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They probably went extinct or mutated like everything else." She mused aloud. "I think that's the saddest thing, don't you? I mean… people are are always doing bad stuff, even if they're just regular people. Humans are petty. But animals don't typically kill for pleasure or hate on purpose… and yet, they were thoughtlessly destroyed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"War never changes." Charon bared his teeth in a ragged snarl. He set his gaze on asphalt, which was more pothole than not, and forcefully pushed away all those confusing thoughts. His mind newly cleared, he marched determinedly onward toward their destination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took shelter in the remains of an old coffee shop at the edge of the small town. Upon clearing it of the small colony of ants that had taken up residence, they chose to lay out their bedrolls behind the counter. While Charon butchered the ants for what little lean protein they could provide, Zephyr scavenged through the place. She triumphantly returned with two tins of coffee, a few packaged goods, a tin of purified water, a radaway, and a stimpack -the latter three having come from a medical kit in the restrooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just don't understand!" She exclaimed upon settling next to him. "What kind of world-ending, nuclear shits did pre-War people take to always need at least one stimpack in the bathroom?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He half-spat, half-inhaled the water he had been sipping. Choking hard enough to make his lungs ache made it difficult to breathe, let alone laugh. All he managed was a hoarse wheeze that brought tears to his eyes. He got ahold of himself after she gave him a few good thumps on the back. "What's wrong? Did the water taste </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" She snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That was awful." He groaned and facepalmed. "You're funnier when you aren't trying."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everyone's a critic, sheesh." She plopped back down to crack open a can of Cram and tin of homemade crackers. It was a small meal, but it kept away the hunger pangs. "Hey, can you show me how to shuck out the ant meat? It would be an awesome side note for the guide!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and picked the knife up again. "Well, I already boiled them, so that's step one." He watched as she snatched up the notepad to scribble that down. She looked… sweet when she was concentrating so hard. She was hanging off of every word he said, and even after so many days of traveling with her he still wasn't used to that kind of rapt attention. "Next, you take the tip of your knife and place it behind the head." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now, tap it down as hard as you can straight through the exoskeleton and leverage the knife backward so it cracks that open in a neat line. All the meat you want is in the abdomen; don't bother with the head or bottom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't… tap… dat ass… got it!" She grinned as her pen scratched away at the paper.</span>
</p><p>He sighed heavily, but continued on with a hint of a smirk. This woman would do what military experimentation, nuclear fire, and two hundred years of dumbass employers had failed to do; she was going to get his ghoulified ass killed. Either because she decided a deathclaw sounded like a good pet or because she made him choke to death on water at one of her rotten jokes, she was going to kill him. Whatever, he had lived a long fucking life up until now… might as well die happy at least. </p><p>That's what this was; he was <em>happy </em>with her. The idea had been such a foreign concept to him for so long, it had taken him a bit to understand it. Properly processing emotions was a difficult feat after all he'd been through… But what <em>had </em>he been through exactly? He felt as if he had been on autopilot all these years; decades had passed without him even noticing. It was a blur, like so many other things, and thinking about it caused a headache to throb at the base of his skull.</p><p>As much as he pondered it through the night, no matter how often he turned it over in his head as they made a beeline for the Washington Naval Yard, he succeeded only in putting himself in a foul mood. Zephyr appeared oblivious to his brooding, but seemed to have her own stormcloud brewing as the beached aircraft carrier came into view. She jumped at the smallest sounds, and had taken to huddling close to his side. </p><p>As they reached the bridge and waited for Harkness to give them clearance, she looked to be on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. He didn't say anything, didn't need to, but laid an arm across her shoulders. The shivering eased, her breathing evened, and she barely hesitated as they entered the city. </p><p>" <em>I can't believe people made all of this… </em>" She kept swiveling her head as awe replaced apprehension. "How? Why?"</p><p>"For the same reason humans have to do most anything… to kill each other." </p><p>They made it from the bridge straight into the marketplace. "I… um… where do we even go to talk to the scientists here?" She looked to him for guidance, but he shook his head.</p><p>"There is a council, I know that much. The scientific division of the council is led by Dr. Madison Li. Other than that, I have no idea. Perhaps if we ask, then we can be granted an audience with her."</p><p>"Well, if we talk with her we shouldn't have a problem. Dr. Li was in charge of Project Purity, she worked with Tommy Gun's dad. Moira told me all about it. If there were ever anything she could be convinced to back, it would be rad-free food for everyone."</p><p>He had his doubts. People were greedy, and he wasn't so convinced that Rivet City could be convinced to part with the secret of growing clean food. In his experience, people hogged and exploited their resources no matter the cost. "I hope you're correct." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Darling Aelia, this is because you mentioned how much you adore Charon. I hope you will enjoy yourself with this one. <br/>Much love and all the marshmallows,<br/>Melda~</p></blockquote></div></div>
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